


Topple

by GretchenSinister



Category: Inception (2010), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, eldritch Sandy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 03:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20614532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Sorry, maybe its due to the fact that TNT is playing constant re-runs of Inception on tv, but I thought this might work. So, the team (Cobb included, because I refuse to believe that he would stop doing what he was good at, Dream theft, when he gets back to America)has to go inside a kid’s mind to find certain info, (older kid, maybe 10, 11, still has to believe) and Sandy, sensing the strange dream vibes goes in. I was imagining in this case the Kid (target) just witnessed something, maybe a company murder or deal, and the team are just looking for an identity.POINTS– if Jack comes in with (Sandy and him were doing rounds together)POINTS– if Arthur is really fucking confused by the sudden gold man/ white haired teenager in the dreamPOINTS– maybe later, Cobbs kids totally know Jack, maybe some interaction there?Thanks so much!!"Sandy may be an eldritch being beyond human comprehension, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t protect the dreams of children.





	Topple

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 9/28/2013.

“Our target’s a ten-year-old kid?” Ariadne looks at Cobb skeptically. “Are you sure about this?”  
  
Cobb runs a hand over his face. “I know we haven’t done anything like this before. But—Ariadne, it’s just a dream. It won’t hurt him. He won’t even know anything’s happened. Our employer has paid off his nanny. She’ll put him out, we’ll attach the PASIV and enter the dream. Honestly, the fact that he’s a kid means that this’ll probably be the easiest job we’ve ever had. He’s not trained in subconscious defense like some.”  
  
Ariadne frowns. “It’s just…I’ve heard stories. About weird things happening when the dreamer is so young.”  
  
“We’ll be fine.” Cobb smiles at her reassuringly. “We’ve got the best team. The best architect.”  
  
Ariadne sighs and rubs a bit of rheum from the corner of her eye before settling down to design the dream environment.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Where’s the kid?” Arthur asks. The team stands in a perfect autumn forest, the trees blazing in brilliant shades of orange and red. Above them, the sky is a supersaturated blue, and the sunlight pouring down into the small clearing is as thick and golden as honey.  
  
“Down one of these paths,” Ariadne answers quickly, trying to hide her anxiety. The kid was supposed to have been in the clearing with them. But then again, there were only supposed to have been two paths. The kid would choose one and they would be able to follow him to a safe place where, down one path, what they needed to know would be reflected in a still pool; or, down the other, the kid would have scribbled the information in chalk on a flat stone.  
  
There was no kid here. Instead, there was a path for every member of the team.   
  
“Right.” Cobb makes a gesture that encompasses the entire team. “We’ve got walkie-talkies. Everyone take a path. Whoever finds the kid calls the others.”  
  
Ariadne lingers for a moment with Cobb, though she’s not sure how to explain what she’s sensing. All she ends up saying is: “I didn’t plan for the light to be this way.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Almost as soon as he sets off down his path, Cobb knows he’s going the right direction. He begins to jog on the hard-packed dirt of the narrow path, dappled sunlight and shadow alternately dazzling and blinding him. When the ground changes to sand and he trips, he has an instant to think that he should have been more careful. After that, he realizes he isn’t falling.  
  
Most of him isn’t, anyway. His totem falls out of his coat pocket and begins to spin in one of the beams of sunlight, in midair.  
  
He feels _curiosity_. Not his. Something…_big_…is looking at him. Not a construct. Not a projection. Something else. Something that shouldn’t  
  
shouldn’t  
  
shouldn’t  
  
_couldn’t_  
  
be here. He shudders, and something blinks. It feels disappointed. Like it was expecting someone else instead of Cobb.  
  
He feels Limbo in that disappointment and his stomach churns.  
  
Between one blink and the next the forest begins to appear as though it’s been dusted with pure gold. Between one blink and the next a small, plump figure of indeterminate race and gender appears on the path before him; skin, hair, and eyes as golden as their flowing robe.  
  
Cobb starts to think of anglerfish, and immediately tries to stop.  
  
_others are gonegone outside alreadyready_  
  
He hadn’t thought something that wasn’t sound could echo so strangely.  
  
_but you are the leader yes yes?_  
  
He doesn’t say anything, but the figure nods. They look up into his eyes with their own, and Cobb feels like an exploded schematic of himself.  
  
_donotdonot do thisthis againgain_  
  
Foolishly, Cobb finds himself thinking “or what?” and “you’re not even real”.  
  
The figure smiles with closed lips and reaches for the top. It continues to spin, hovering a fraction of an inch above their palm. _doesn’t stop spinningspinning in dream does stop spinning in waking could be same for you then this one farfar morereal and you knowknowknow_ With a look from the figure, the top falls into their hand.  
  
Cobb gulps and nods.  
  
The figure’s smile is wider now, more genuine. They walk up to him and replace the top in his pocket. They step back and regard Cobb with some amusement.  
  
_now getoutgetout_  
  
He wakes to chaos, shouts and bodyguards and flashes of gunfire. The job has gone wrong, and now he and his team must fight for their lives in the dark of an unfamiliar mansion.  
  


* * *

  
  
“About those stories you heard,” Cobb begins, looking down at the controls of his hospital bed to avoid meeting Ariadne’s eyes, “how do they usually end?”  
  
“They don’t,” she says first. “Death,” she says second.


End file.
